“Was it a double feature with Raptorbot Rampage?” Sydney asked dryly.

Howie held up a warning finger. “That stuff’s not made up, you know. Real life is stranger than fiction, man. The government’s hiding it from us.”

“Totally,” said Marcus, steering Howie back toward the beaded curtain. “Why don’t you take some cookies back down in the basement instead? I think I saw some Nutter Butters in the kitchen.”

Marcus got our host situated and then sent him on his way. None of the rest of us spoke until we heard the basement door close again. Eddie remarked, “Real life is stranger than fiction.”

“Tell me about it,” Sydney said, turning back to the canteen. “What do I have to do?”

“Drink it,” said Inez. “We mixed in some Tang to help it taste better. Emphasis on ‘help.’”

“But first we finish the spell,” said Maude. She and Inez linked hands, forming a circle around where the canteen sat on a table. I’d heard Sydney recite spells enough to recognize the sound of Latin. I’d also learned enough to know that most of the spells she used were simple ones with immediate results. The kind these witches were dealing with now—spells with multiple parts that required multiple magic users—were heady, and Sydney’s awed expression reflected as much. When they finished the chant, Maude handed the canteen over to Sydney with a flourish. “Bottoms up,” said Maude.

Sydney unscrewed the lid and grimaced at what she saw inside. I was standing near her and shared her disgust. The concoction smelled like wet rope . . . and Tang.

“The faster you drink it, the better,” added Inez. “Plugging your nose wouldn’t hurt either.”

Sydney did both, but none of it stopped her from gagging. “It better not come back up,” warned Inez. “Because we don’t have any more of it.”

Sydney winced and shook her head as she handed the canteen back. “It’s staying down. What now? Am I really stronger? Mostly I just feel like I want to brush my teeth.” She certainly hadn’t sprouted giant muscles nor begun compulsively pumping iron.

“And how much stronger?” asked Eddie eagerly. “Like lift-up-a-car stronger?”

Maude smiled. “Sorry to disappoint, but no. For one thing, that would attract too much attention, and you probably don’t want that. For another, our power has limitations. We can’t go around creating gods. I’d say . . .” She glanced between Eddie and Sydney speculatively, her smile growing. “I’d say you’re strong enough to hold your own with a dhampir in an arm wrestling match.”

“I would kind of love to see that,” I admitted. Eddie’s face said he would as well.

Sydney groaned. “Really? That’s so barbaric.”

Eddie leaned over and propped his arm up on the table that had previously held the canteen. “Come on, Mrs. Ivashkov. Let’s do this. Besides, if you’re squeamish about arm wrestling, how are you going to handle going head-to-head with the Warriors?”

He had a point, at least based on the stories Sabrina had told us. Sydney stood opposite him at the table and mirrored his arm position. Their arms clasped, and Marcus counted them down, looking nearly as excited as Eddie. To my astonishment, when they started, Eddie didn’t immediately slam her hand down as I’d expected. His eyes widened, as did his grin. He increased his effort and began making progress. Gritting her teeth, Sydney pushed back, and amazingly, she soon took the upper hand, so to speak.

“It’s so strange,” she said. “I can feel the strength within me . . . as though it’s both part of me and yet not part of me. Like it was something I put on. Like clothing.” Ultimately, Eddie pushed his strength to its limit and finally defeated her, but not without her holding her own for a while. I held up her arm triumphantly, like a victor at a boxing match.

“My wife, ladies and gentlemen. Beauty, brains, and now brawn.”

“Awesome,” said Eddie, in a rare moment of delight. “How long will that last?”

“Four days,” said Maude, looking apologetic. “Like I said, we can’t create gods.”

“Four days,” Sydney repeated. “Sabrina’s taking us later tonight. So we’ve got three and a half days to find out what the Warriors are hiding about Jill.”

“Or just kick everyone’s ass the first day so they leave you alone after that,” suggested Marcus helpfully.

Noting the second tote bag the witches had brought, I asked, “What else is there besides super strength?”

Maude began unpacking the bag’s contents. “Jackie says we need to do some appearance changes too.”

“I’ve done those kinds of spells before,” Sydney told them. “You don’t need to do anything more.”

“Hush, girl,” snapped Inez. “You need to conserve your strength for whatever madness you’re getting involved in. Besides, maintaining a sustained spell of change is no easy task. You ever done it for a week?” She glanced at Eddie. “For two people?”

“No, ma’am,” Sydney admitted.

Maude tossed Sydney two boxes of hair dye in “Burnished Chestnut.” “One for each of you,” she said. “You can do it after we leave. The less we have to change with magic, the better.”

Eddie took one of the boxes and raised an eyebrow. He made no complaint, however. Some guys would’ve thrown a fit about having to dye their hair, but not Eddie. I supposed when you vanquished evil undead creatures as part of your normal life, a little salon treatment in no way threatened your masculinity.

The rest of the bag contained what I recognized as standard spell components: herbs, crystals, powders. Maude and Inez began building a spell circle on the table, and I realized I was watching another complicated act of magic that had required multiple people and parts. Sydney realized it too.

“So much,” she murmured to me. “They’re helping so much.”

“Take it,” I replied, squeezing her hand. “You’re worth it. Jill’s worth it.”

When their materials were ready, Inez set two silver rings in the middle of it all. She glanced at Maude. “Are you ready?”

Maude nodded and walked over to Sydney, wielding a wand. Reluctantly I stepped away from her, remarking, “How come you never wave a wand?”